


Not a Creature Was Stirring

by wingedspirit



Series: Winter 2019 Prompts [7]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 31 Days of Ineffables Advent Calendar Challenge (Good Omens), 31 Days of Ineffables Advent Calendar Challenge 2019 (Good Omens), A cat - Freeform, M/M, The South Downs Cottage, Unrepentant Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:47:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21710974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedspirit/pseuds/wingedspirit
Summary: Crowley gets adopted by a cat.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Winter 2019 Prompts [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560823
Comments: 20
Kudos: 216
Collections: Ineffable Cats





	Not a Creature Was Stirring

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [drawlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drawlight)’s [advent calendar prompt list](https://drawlight.tumblr.com/post/188869931294/aziraphale-crowley-for-half-an-hour-youve-been) (day 7, silent night).

They’re safe. They’re free. Heaven and Hell have promised to leave them alone — in writing, even, with edicts signed by Beelzebub on Crowley’s side and Michael on Aziraphale’s. Neither of their former sides is any danger to them any longer.

Still, six thousand years of vigilance have formed habits that are hard to break; and so a loud thump coming from downstairs, shattering the nighttime silence they have become used to, has them both awake in a matter of moments.

Crowley groans and swings his long legs out of the bed, standing up in a single, smooth, not entirely human motion. “Go back to sleep, angel. I’ll sort this.”

“Are you certain? It might be dangerous —”

“Nah, nothing to worry about. Pile of books fell over, sounded like. I’ll just go make sure that’s all it was, pick them up for you. Go back to sleep.”

“If you’re sure,” Aziraphale says, dubiously.

“I am.” Crowley leans over to kiss him, gently. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Aziraphale tries to get back to sleep, he really does; but the habits of six thousand years are very, very hard to break, and before long, he’s creeping down the stairs, using a minor miracle to heighten his hearing.

At first, Crowley’s voice is all he hears.

“You can’t just do that, come on, you know this. We were asleep.”

A pause.

“Look, what more do you want? You’re already inside.”

A longer pause.

“No. Nope. Not doing that.”

This time, in the silence that follows, Aziraphale hears a very faint answer, sounding almost like — a meow?

“I told you, he doesn’t know you’re in here. He’ll think I’ve gone soft. My reputation would never recover.”

A louder, longer meow.

“Well of _course_ I let you in. It’s freezing outside tonight. Wasn’t going to leave you in the cold.”

Another loud meow, very argumentative; and Aziraphale has to smother a laugh, because by now, he has a very good idea of what’s going on.

“Don’t you start with that as well. Aziraphale’s bad enough.”

A questioning meow.

“No, I don’t care how well you think you’d get along with him, I’m not bloody going to take you upstairs and introduce you! You have everything you need here!”

Aziraphale’s made it to the door of the library, where he knows Crowley is. “Introduce me to whom, dearest?” he asks, carefully innocent.

Crowley yelps, and attempts to spin around; since he’d been crouching, though, he only ends up falling flat on his arse. The small white cat sitting in front of him meows again, looking as smug as — well, as the cat that got the cream. Crowley hisses in response.

“Well, aren’t you beautiful,” Aziraphale says, warmly, crouching next to the cat and offering his hand. “Hello there.”

The cat headbutts his hand and starts purring loudly, sounding rather like an old, rusted chainsaw.

“She’s an unholy terror, is what she is,” Crowley mutters, sourly. “Should’ve just left her outside. Knew she was going to be trouble. Knocked over a stack of your books.”

The cat responds to that by leaping on Crowley’s chest and headbutting his chin, still purring, with another meow.

“Shut up,” Crowley grumbles, reflexively supporting her with one hand and stroking her with the other.

Aziraphale presses his lips firmly together to suppress another laugh. He has a feeling Crowley wouldn’t appreciate it. “You understand what she’s saying?”

“Mostly.” Crowley shrugs. “I’ve been around cats before. Between the tone of her meows and her body language, it’s not hard to get the gist.”

Aziraphale rather suspects there’s more to it than that, given Crowley was outright holding a conversation with the cat; but that’s a discussion for the morning. “Shall we go back to bed, then?”

“Let’s,” Crowley says. “Let me just set the little gremlin down, and — ow, _ow_ , no, _stop that_ — stop that right this instant! No!” The cat has unsheathed her nails and is clinging firmly to Crowley, resisting his attempts to remove her — still purring.

This time, Aziraphale cannot help but laugh, despite his best efforts. “She can come upstairs with us.”

The purring, impossibly, gets louder; and Crowley scowls, climbing to his feet. “You’ll regret it. She’s a menace.”

“I don’t know,” Aziraphale says, making his way to the stairs, trusting Crowley to follow. “She seems quite lovely to me. She has good taste, at least. She clearly likes you.”

“Don’t you start,” Crowley grouses. “This is only temporary, anyway. She’s going right back to living outside as soon as it’s warmer.”

“As you say.” Aziraphale smiles. “Suppose we should find her a name?”

Crowley mutters something unintelligible.

“What was that, darling?”

“…Snowflake,” Crowley mutters. “That’s her name.”

“How lovely.”

* * *

Aziraphale wakes up again a scant few hours later — or rather, is awoken by a very cold feline nose being firmly and deliberately pressed to the back of his neck. He squirms and attempts to shove Snowflake away; she retaliates by snuggling under his arm, purring, and licking his cheek.

Aziraphale groans and nudges Crowley. The sky is still dark outside; it’s too early for this. “Your cat wants attention.”

Crowley opens one eye and gives Aziraphale a look, then rolls over so his back is to Aziraphale — but not fast enough to hide his amused grin. “Nope. Before dawn, she’s your cat. It was your idea to bring her upstairs.”

“Crowley!”

“No.” Crowley makes an extremely unconvincing snoring noise. “See? I’m already asleep again.”

Aziraphale sighs. In fairness, Crowley has a point — it _was_ his idea. Gently, he lifts Snowflake so he can reposition both himself and her — him on his side, not his front, one arm slung around Crowley; and the cat perched on his hip. Thankfully, she seems to like that. She kneads his hip for a bit, then curls up and goes back to sleep.

It’s only a few more moments, and Aziraphale is asleep again, too.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write something like this for a while, and I am not even remotely sorry.
> 
> I can, as ever, be found on [Tumblr](https://wingedspirit.tumblr.com/).


End file.
